I watched several more leaves rattle a loud protest as the wind determined their fate. Another leaf, one which could easily be labeled as a spectacular tribute to nature itself, was swaying gently in the crisp breeze. It was different from the other leaves, seemingly unafraid of its destiny. I continued to watch until it was slowly delivered to the ground to rest in silence at my feet. That is the way death was intended to be, I thought; stealing quickly over its prepared and quietly waiting subject, death overcomes life with no struggle and no outcry. I sighed and wondered when I, too, would be beneath the dried and decaying vestiges of many summers passed. I culminated my restful sojourn amongst the colorful show of leaves with thoughts that have frequently entered my consciousness during reflective intervals; one must first accept death if he is ever to understand life. I will never forget an incident which occurred shortly after my release from the hospital. Seated in the middle of the shopping mall, I was engaged in observing people hurry in and out of stores, and while my face did not radiate feelings of great joy and elation, I did not wear a mask of sorrow either. Just then, a man happened by and remarked, "smile, you're not going to die!" I remember how idiotic that phrase sounded to me, and it left me speechless. "Yes," I thought, "I shall die. . . and sooner than you might suspect." Everyone dies. Quite apart from denying my illness, I found myself quite preoccupied with it, and initially it was difficult to carry on in a "normal" fashion in the sense that I could not detach my mind from the fact that I had cancer again. After learning of my recurrence I immediately began thinking thoughts such as, "if I subscribe to this magazine, I wonder whether I'll receive all of the copies. . . ," and while driving down the road, "I wonder if I'll ever get a speeding ticket," or when in a pet shop, "if I got a parrot, it would outlive me." I remembered my china dishes and realized that my dad had been right; I should never have purchased something which represented the future. The future did not belong to me. . . it was dissolving before my eyes. My dreams were changing out of necessity, since most dreams depended on time for their fulfillment... and time was one amenity that I could not hope to claim. Nov. 1981... I dismissed modeling altogether after appearing in a luncheon (style show), which I enjoyed entirely. I somehow felt unable to accept the demands of the career when I felt my health situation was so uncertain and unreliable. Admittedly, I could have modeled for a short time. Somehow, though, it didn't seem important any more. I was tired... I thought of the teenager who had a car, yet lacked the fuel to drive it.